


Parenting 101 - Curfews

by myinnerchildisbored



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Parentlock, Sherlock and Thea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18584023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myinnerchildisbored/pseuds/myinnerchildisbored





	Parenting 101 - Curfews

It was almost two o’clock in the morning, a little chilly but by no means cold, a very nice night to be out. Thea was sitting on the steps at Piccadilly Circus, practising her anchoring skills. Granted, it was not particularly chockers but there were still enough noisy and interesting people for it to be a moderate challenge.

A woman was weeping into her phone, trying desperately to coax back the idiot who’d stormed off about ten minutes ago after showering her in a torrent of colourful abuse. He clearly didn’t mean to break things off permanently, as he had answered his phone on the second ring and Thea would not have been surprised if he was lurking just around the corner, waiting for her to be completely hysterical before swooping back to pick her up.

What was interesting about them though, she pondered, fishing another Malteser from the family size bucket at her feet, was their fanciness. She’d observed many public domestics but they were almost never carried out by men in bespoke suits and women with classy tan heels and understated make-up. To see someone who looked well-read, well-groomed and very much like a law-associate round on his date and call her a ‘fucking slag’ was morbidly fascinating; as was watching a woman who most likely had a personal assistant who lived in fear of her sharp tongue, grovel and writhe beneath his furious glare, calling him ‘babe’ and apologising profusely.

Clichés were dull, Thea had been told so as long as she could remember, but this did not make them necessarily untrue; which was exactly why one had to appreciate the unusual and surprising, commit it to memory and consider it a possibility in future scenarios.

Then, there was a group of lads out on the town for the night, visiting, if their accents were anything to go by, from somewhere around Doncaster. One of them was hurling his guts up into a bin by the steps to the underground, his friends were laughing and filming him on their phones. All but one of them, who looked distinctly sympathetic, if a little grossed out, and had been hovering near his compadre for the better part of five minutes, weighing up whether putting his hand on his back would be considered gay or not.

Thea popped another chocolate in her mouth.

A couple emerged from the underground steps, on the way home from a failed attempt at date night. They had really given it a go, considering the hour, but to no avail. The woman was clutching her bag rather than her husband’s hand, which was dangling as a useless invitation between them. He stopped on the top of the stairs and had some words with the crew surrounding the great spewmigator, looking amicable enough but clearly advising them to get their mate to wherever it was they were staying – Thea had her money on a particularly seedy youth hostel in Camden and her mind set on following them to see if she was right.

If she was, she decided, she would go and get some chips. Reward systems were necessary if any progress was to be made.

Picking up her bucket of chocolates and securing the lid firmly, she sauntered towards the group, who were getting ready to go. She swerved to avoid the soon-to-be-separated couple, when the husband turned towards her and frowned in surprise.

“Thea?”

Oh bugger. She really had to start paying attention to faces more.

“Good evening, Detective Inspector,” she said politely without breaking her stride. “Have a pleasant-“

Detective Inspector Lestrade’s hand landed heavily on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he said.

“Very astute of you.” Thea smiled at him. “I apologise, I should have said good morning.”

“Your dad about?” he asked.

She had to commend him for at least considering the possibility. He was a nice man, Lestrade. He’d been in and out of the flat a fair bit recently and from what she’d witnessed, he had the patience of a saint when it came to her father’s…tendencies. And he was clearly a person who paid attention, remembering not only her name but her face well enough to identify her in passing.

“No,” she said. “He’s at home.”

The frown deepened.

“What’s this now?” his wife asked tiredly.

“Ah, this is Thea,” Lestrade explained, not taking his hand of her shoulder. “Sherlock Holmes’ kid.”

“Hi.” Thea gave a little wave.

That woman looked sour.

“Charmed,” she snipped. “Greg?”

For a moment Lestrade looked infinitely exhausted.

“I’ll have to see her home,” he said. “I’m really so-“

“How very considerate of you,” Mrs Lestrade hissed. “Am I expected to wait for you?”

“Get a cab,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right behind.”

“Don’t rush.” The venom in her voice was considerable and she stormed off towards the curb with not as much as a glance back.

Lestrade looked down at Thea, who wondered if it was possible for someone’s hair to become a little greyer in the space of thirty seconds.

“Let’s go,” he said, steering her towards the bus stop.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Thea said, watching the Doncaster eight disappear in the very direction she’d predicted. “I was actually just going…”

She could still catch up to them if she got rid of Lestrade now.

“Stop talking,” he sighed. “You shouldn’t be out, you’re not going anywhere apart from Baker Street, with me, now.”

They waited for the two-thirty bus in silence, Thea’s bucket swinging between them.

“You’re with homicide, aren’t you?” she asked as the bus pulled up to the curb.

“Yea.”

“That’ll come in very handy indeed,” Thea said morosely.

++++++++++++++++

As they were walking towards Baker Street from Dorset Square, Thea made another attempt.

“I’ll be right from here,” she said. “It’s only two minutes to walk.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Lestrade said with a barely contained smirk.

“You should go home,” Thea implored. “You might salvage the remains of your night. Don’t let bad seats and an awful dinner ruin a perfectly nice evening…go and appease the missus. Here,” she held out her bucket of Maltesers, “take these. You can eat them together in front of the telly in your pyjamas, drink some red wine and watch Love Actually or something. The sort of thing you used to do when you were only just living together and both worked late all the time. She’ll be moved you thought of it, I’m convinced.”

He looked at her and for a moment she thought he was going to go for it.

“Not bad,” he said, “but not quite as good as the old man yet, sorry.”

Thea huffed and withdrew the offering of chocolates.

“Charming delivery though,” he assured her as they advanced on 221.

He was about to knock but Thea stopped him, pulling her set of rakes from her pocket.

“Don’t wake Mrs Hudson,” she muttered, picking the lock in seconds, ignoring his incredulous stare.

Once the door was open, Thea pocketed her set and held out her hand to the Detective Inspector.

“Thank you for the escort,” she said. “It’s good to know chivalry is alive and well at Scotland Yard.”

He laughed.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “But I think I best make sure you actually go up and stay there.”

“Come on,” Thea moaned, struggling to keep her voice down. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Darling,” Lestrade stepped past her and made for the steps without mercy, “considering it’s almost three at night on a Tuesday, I’d be alarmed if he didn’t.”

Muttering a string of expletives, Thea followed the Detective Inspector up the stairs.

The door was flung open at the sound of their advancing footsteps and there, in all his bathrobed glory, stood Sherlock. His look of seething rage was replaced by one of genuine surprise at the sight of Lestrade, but only momentarily.

“Missing something?” Lestrade asked happily, pushing a very reluctant Thea over the threshold.

“I got you some chocolates,” she said.

In response her father smacked the back of her head with moderate force.

“Oy!” Rubbing her head Thea retreating towards the sofa. “You’re not having any now…”

“I did not send you out for chocolates,” Sherlock shouted.

“I’m aware,” she said, emboldened by the distance between them. “But, on balance, they’re better for you. And anyway, you told me not to acquiesce if you –“

“Do not quote my own obsolete instructions at me in a fickle attempt to escape my wrath,” her father said sharply.

“But-“

“You sent her out?” Both Holmes looked momentarily surprised to see Lestrade still leaning in the doorway. “For what?”

“Well, not for bloody M&Ms,” Sherlock huffed.

“These are Maltesers,” Thea pointed out.

“Consanguineous.”

“Maybe so,” she conceded. “But these are superior.”

Sherlock eyed the container with interest.

“There’s certainly a lot of them,” he said.

“You can have one,” Thea said sweetly, prying the lid open. “On the condition you don’t smack me again. You can have three even.”

“Don’t get cute.” Her father plunged his hand into the bucket, withdrew a fistful of Maltesers and crunched pensively. “These are superior.”

“Hello?”

“What are you still doing here?” Sherlock asked Lestrade with unconcealed irritation.

“I’ve just picked your daughter up from Piccadilly in the dead of night,” the Detective Inspector said touchily.

“Don’t pretend to be put out,” Sherlock said. “Gave you an excuse to escape the dragon’s clutches, didn’t she?”

“Children-“

“Oh, not you as well!” Thea bit back a smile as her father rounded on Lestrade. “I’m aware that it’s conventionally frowned upon to permit one’s offspring to wander the streets after some universally acknowledged curfew and” he gave his daughter a scathing look “if she had done as she was told, she would not have had need to postpone her return.”

“What was she told?”

“He sent me out for cigarettes,” Thea explained.

“Four hours ago,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Why on earth-“

“Because he’s supposed to have quit.” Thea gave her father a look of her own. “And he’s paid off everyone within in three mile radius, so they won’t sell him any.”

“Sherlock,” Lestrade said with barely contained exasperation. “You don’t send kids out for fags at eleven at night. You’re lucky you don’t have CPS knocking on the door.”

“Do you see the trouble you’re causing me?” Sherlock asked Thea accusingly. “You’re an incorrigible menace.”

Although she did her very best to look at least a little contrite, she was not deaf to his undertone of pride.

“Anything could have-“

“Anything could happen regardless of the time of day,” Sherlock interrupted. “And frankly, I doubt that many paedophiles are on the prowl at a time when children are, as people keep telling me, supposed to be ensconced in the dull safety of their dull homes.”

“Do you actually not care?” Lestrade was beginning to sound rather pissed off.

“Don’t say that,” Thea protested.

Both men gave her surprised looks.

“He cares plenty,” she said vehemently. “Now, thank you so much for taking me home, Detective Inspector, much appreciated.”

“No problem…”

“Well, it’s late and I still have to be shouted at for quite some time for being so very careless and putting my life in danger,” she gave her father a pointed look.

“Oh, definitely,” he said quickly. “Excessive shouting. Possibly a savage beating.”

“See,” Thea smiled at the Detective Inspector reassuringly. “It’d probably be best to say goodnight. Also, your wife would surely appreciate it if you didn’t take all night. She already thinks you’re sleeping with someone from work.”

“Who? What?” Lestrade was still looking from one Holmes to the other in bafflement.

“Goodnight.” Sherlock managed to close the door on him.

Father and daughter stood in silence, listening to his footsteps retreat down the stairs and the soft thud of the door closing.

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Sherlock said after a while. “What’s the rule about after hours excursions?”

“Don’t get caught,” Thea said sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to-“

“One usually does not intend to get caught,” he interrupted.

“I wasn’t paying attention.” Thea put the open container of chocolates on the coffee table and sank into the sofa. “I mean, I was-“ she added quickly as Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “but not to him. I didn’t even recognise him until he’d already seen me.”

Her father helped himself to another handful of Maltesers and wandered towards the window.

“Thoughtless!” he roared so suddenly Thea jumped.

She stared at him with wide eyes. Her father rolled his own and nodded towards the window. Thea tiptoed towards him cautiously and peered through the curtain. Lestrade was standing on the sidewalk, waiting for a cab to hail. Quietly Sherlock cracked the window open a little.

“I will not stand for this kind of recklessness!” he shouted. “Piccadilly Circus, indeed! Are you actively trying to get yourself murdered?”

Thea was biting her lip hard enough to draw blood in a vain attempt to keep the giggles at bay.

“Do not give me that look, young lady,” her father thundered merrily, pleased to see that the Detective Inspector down below had turned his head towards the window ever so slightly. “Get out of my sight this instant! I’ll decide on how to deal with you in the morning.”

A cab pulled up and Lestrade was whisked away towards his own set of retributions.

“Let’s hope that does it,” Sherlock said.

“That was very convincing,” Thea assured him, settling back on the sofa.

“I suppose I should send you to bed?” he ventured.

“You could…” Thea eyed the contents of the kitchen table behind him “…or I could inject bacteria into those shrimps for you. You know? Make myself useful as penance for being such a nuisance.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Very well,” he said. “But you are expressly forbidden to enjoy it, understood?”

“I’ll hate every minute, I assure you.” Thea was already in the kitchen, digging her gloves out of a drawer.

“And I’ll have you know, young lady, you’ll not be going to bed until the last specimen has been microwaved, photographed and catalogued.”

“You’re loathsome,” Thea said happily.

“That’s quite enough chatter. Snap to it, come on.”

Feeling incredibly pleased about her initially unpromising evening, Thea took up a loaded syringe and plunged it expertly into the first of many shrimp.


End file.
